


Into Thin Air

by ficdirectory



Category: Grey's Anatomy
Genre: Airplane Crashes, Character Death, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2020-01-04 06:14:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18337817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficdirectory/pseuds/ficdirectory
Summary: Unseen moments from 8x24 - 9x02.





	Into Thin Air

**May 17 th 2012**

It’s dark when Owen gets the string of messages from the hospital in Boise. Chills run up and down his arms as he realizes what a grave mistake he has made by putting off hearing his voicemails for the whole of the day.

The plane never made it to Boise.

He’s called Richard, and they’re not at dinner.

They are nowhere.

Cristina is nowhere. Ever since he’s come here, Owen has known – at least peripherally – where Cristina was. Not knowing is torture. He’s gone from being torn between Cristina and Teddy to having neither of them. Teddy, he has sent away, her words echoing in his head:

“ _You fight for her_.”

But Owen is more aware than most of just how little there is to fight with.

There is nothing else to do but call and report them all missing.

He’s not naive. Owen knows there is likely only one option for what’s happened and he cannot bear to imagine it. He remembers being stranded himself and waiting for help, trying desperately to save the only friend he even had a chance to.

It makes his heart race and a cold sweat break out on his forehead.

And he hates himself for it, but if that’s the only option for Cristina right now…Owen hopes maybe she didn’t make it. Hopes it was quick and relatively painless.

This way, too, he won’t have to go through the agony of losing her, should she chose to walk away from him. Because her choosing to leave him would hurt so much more than her leaving like this.

–

Callie has on her best lingerie. She’s gotten out the champagne and the chocolate covered strawberries. The flavored body paint that Arizona likes.

She waits. Checks her phone. Tries out different sexy poses on the bed. Casual. She should go for casual and then when Arizona comes in? All bets are off.

Hours pass.

Callie checks on Sofia half a dozen times. It has not escaped her that if Arizona’s not back, it means Mark’s not back either.

The possibility of something being wrong isn’t one Callie is willing to entertain.

Though she doesn’t want to, Callie falls asleep in her sexiest underwear, still clutching her phone. She dreams of woods so vividly that she can actually smell trees and dirt. When she jerks awake, only twenty minutes have passed, but just like that, Callie is sure.

Something is wrong.

–

April lies awake staring at the ceiling. It was bad enough that she had been in charge of Meredith and Derek’s clothing and their kid, but now it’s approaching midnight and they aren’t here. Chief Webber had put off sharing his best advice for as long as possible, but finally gave in and shared it.

She and Jackson had shared subtle, tortured looks at the table. When Chief Webber finally conceded that weather had likely held up Meredith and Cristina, he had urged them to eat.

As much as April hadn’t wanted to admit it, Callie had been right.

The duck was delicious.

Now, though, she checks her phone for the millionth time, willing there to be word from Meredith or Derek.

But there’s nothing.

**May 18 th 2012**

When dawn breaks, Cristina breathes a small sigh of relief. Daylight means the possibility of rescue. Daylight means (hopefully) sunlight. She hopes they’ll be able to keep warm.

The water hasn’t even lasted twenty four hours. It’s a nightmare. She covered Lexie up, tried walling her off with clothing, suitcases, branches, anything to keep the wild animals away. She doesn’t know if it will do much good. Plus, she has more to worry about. Arizona’s open femur fracture. Mark’s heart. Derek’s hand. Jerry’s spinal cord injury.

Meredith, at least, is in one piece, physically. Cristina’s grateful for the smallest things. The existence of her missing shoe. That Arizona packs enough for three people over three weeks, which gives them plenty of layers to wear to fend off the cold.

It’s so cold.

They have literally nothing to eat. The gum Meredith gave Cristina last night has gone hard in her mouth. It’s like chewing a rock. But Cristina’s convinced that having something in her mouth is better than having nothing in it.

She’s thought of shelter, but there’s not a lot she and Meredith can create with three arms between them. For now, Mark and Arizona, their most injured are holed up in a piece of the wreckage. Getting Arizona there had been a nightmare. Her screams haunted Cristina even now that they stopped.

“We need to find water,” she croaks, her mouth dry as sandpaper.

“We can’t separate,” Meredith objects. “I can’t leave everyone else here and injured to come and look for you when you get lost.”

“Well, what would you suggest? Because we can’t live more than three days or something without water.”

“I’m not staying out here for three days,” Meredith insists. “They’re going to find us.”

“Well, it’s already approaching twenty four hours and I’d rather be prepared,” Cristina shoots back.

“She’s right, Mer,” Derek offers weakly.

“Fine,” Meredith crosses her arms.

Cristina ventures out, armed with as many socks, ties, and scarves from the luggage as she can carry. Every so often she ties something to a nearby tree, marking her path, so she could more easily find her way back. She tries to work her way downhill but there is no lower ground.

There is no water.

–

Jackson wakes up way too early on Friday. When he fell asleep last night, he was alone, thanks to April freaking out about Grey and Shepherd not being home. Now, though, something’s crawling all over him.

It grabs his ear and climbs on his face to rest. He smells pee.

“Zola,” he mutters, face squashed by her 16-month-old body.

“Mom?” she asks, still sitting on his face.

Gingerly, Jackson moves her off him, one hand out to be sure she doesn’t topple off the bed. “Where’d you come from, huh? You can’t get out of your crib…”

He picks her up and walks through the house quietly hoping to find April. Or better yet, Meredith and Derek, to let them know their kid broke out of her room. But the house is quiet.

Jackson sighs and double checks everywhere. A light is on in the bathroom. He taps on the door. “Hey,” he calls. “Zola escaped.”

He blinks as April pulls the door open, looking like she hasn’t slept at all.

“Where are Grey and Shepherd?” he asks, confused.

“Not back yet,” April confesses.

He raises his eyebrows. “Well, what are we supposed to do with Baby Houdini?”

“Take her to daycare, I guess, same as they would… Come here, sweetie,” April holds her arms out for Zola and Jackson scowls. What he wouldn’t give for a greeting like that in the morning and not a wet baby on his face.

“Seriously, though, how’d she get out?” Jackson wonders, grateful there’s coffee brewing already.

“I came in your room two minutes ago and said I needed to shower and could you watch her? You said yeah.”

Jackson shakes his head. “I don’t think that happened.”

April’s like a magician. She gets Zola changed and dressed in no time and soon she’s in the kitchen setting Zola up in the high chair with a handful of Cheerios and toddler cup of juice with a lid. It must be spill proof, because when Zola turns it upside down and shakes it, only two drops come out.

She pushes the cereal around. Throws her cup on the floor and whines.

Jackson scowls and bends to pick it up. Zola throws it again.

“This is not a game,” he says seriously.

“Jackson, she’s tired and confused. We told her they’d be back and they’re not. She’s probably nervous.”

“Glad I got the Baby Whisperer here to clear all that up for me,” he remarks, sarcasm dripping from his every word.

But as they leave the house, Jackson with Zola balanced on his hip and April locking the door behind them and juggling the diaper bag, plus her keys, phone and coffee, Zola lunges for the ground.

“Mom?” she calls. “Back, Mom?”

“They’ll be back soon, I hope,” Jackson says. “In the meantime, you get to go to daycare and play with your friends. Right? How’s that sound?”

Zola bursts into tears.

–

Derek tries to sleep, but each time his eyes drift closed, Zola’s face is there, smiling. He loves that face, but it kills him to see it. Because Derek doesn’t know if they’re going to make it out of this. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever see his little girl again.

It hasn’t escaped him that if they don’t get out of this, Zola will have no one. Not only are he and Meredith trapped out here, but Lexie’s gone. Lexie’s listed as next of kin if something were to happen to him and Meredith. After that, their next option had always been Cristina, and she’s here, too.

Derek grits his teeth. That just means they have to survive. Not surviving is not an option. They’re surgeons. They’re innovative. They’ve been trained to save lives. Been trained for disasters.

They’ve treated plane crash victims. But they never asked those victims how they did it. How they survived out there with nothing.

He drifts off again, into a pained haze of near sleep. It’s all he can do. His crushed hand is so agonizing it nearly causes him to pass out. If he sleeps, he won’t move it. If he doesn’t move it, he won’t pass out.

–

Meredith is freezing and really wishing she hadn’t cried so much yesterday. Crying means less water in her system and she needs all the water she can get. Arizona got the last of it and now they’re officially on borrowed time, especially as Cristina had no luck at all finding any.

“Maybe it’ll rain…” Arizona calls weakly.

“Rain will slow the search,” Derek moans.

“ _If_ there’s a search,” Meredith adds bitterly.

“What do you mean  _if_?” Jerry calls from inside the plane, where he has shelter and the advantage of not being able to feel half his body. Meredith has to admit, she hates him a little for that. Her head is killing her. Her leg hurts. But she’s a selfish person if she complains about any of that because if anyone should get to complain about leg pain, it’s Arizona, whose femur is sticking out for the world to see.

Cristina’s tried to cover it. She’s done her best to help them all.

Meredith pokes Derek awake, checking his level of consciousness. He groans.

She’s wishing they had any kind of meds out here, but none of them brought so much as an aspirin, and that so-called first aid kit had done absolutely nothing for them.

“We’d better get rescued. Cristina, Owen’s got to know we’re out here, right? He knows?”

“Yes,” she nods, looking scared. “He knows. He’s got to know.”

When Cristina is busy, Meredith talks to Lexie under her breath. It’s not that she’s crazy. It’s that Meredith is positive she’s still here. Not just her body, which Mer is glad she can’t see, but something else. The part that made her who she was.

“Lexie, you’ve gotta help us out here…” Meredith threatens under her breath. “I know I have no right to ask you for anything, because it’s not like I was here when I needed you or anything, but…we’re running out of time. And we’re running out of options. Just…if you can do anything to let Owen or Richard or anybody know where we are…” Meredith’s voice cracks and she swallows, determined not to cry again. “That would be ideal.”

–

By the second night, Arizona is so desperate, she’s nibbling leaves. It’s the closest thing she’s had to food in more than twenty four hours. The bits of leave stick in her throat and make her cough more. Her bleeding is worse, but she has to eat something. What she really wants is water. Cristina had been right to think of hydration first thing. Arizona can already recognize the symptoms of dehydration: the confusion, quicker breathing and heartbeat, the way her skin lacks elasticity.

Speaking of Cristina, she’s breathing too deeply. It sounds like she’s going to be sick. “You okay?” Arizona calls, feeling helpless. What will she do if Cristina’s not okay? Mark’s already not okay and he’s right here. It’s not like there’s much Arizona can do for him.

Cristina looks absolutely green in the fading daylight.

“What?”

She holds out something in the tiny, empty first aid box. It’s black as pitch and smells like diesel. Arizona doesn’t say anything, just stares at Cristina knowingly.

She’s not there yet, but Arizona wonders just how long it will be before she will be desperate enough to quell her thirst by drinking plane fuel.

“I’m not doing that,” Arizona insists.

Cristina nods, still looking like she might vomit. “Save your pee, then,” she says seriously and then raises her voice to call out: “Everyone, save your pee!”

**May 19, 2012**

On Saturday morning, Callie is ripped from sleep by the ringing of the phone. She lunges for it, exhausted, and very nearly rolls onto the floor. “Hello?” she rasps. “Arizona?”

The line is open and crackles with static. She waits, her heart in her throat. For ten long seconds, this goes on, before Callie hears a dial tone and smashes down the phone. True, this was better than Arizona’s dad calling, demanding to know why he had not personally been told that his daughter was missing. Callie hadn’t had the heart to admit that she hoped she wouldn’t have to. She hoped Arizona would be back by then.

No one has called for Mark. Well, except Derek’s mom, who called after she realized both Derek and Mark were on the plane.

Sofia’s awake. Callie can hear her on the baby monitor that’s clipped to her pajama pants. Gone is the sexy lingerie. That seemed like a million years ago.

She walks into Sofia’s room trying to smile. “Morning, Little Goose,” she greets, using Mark’s nickname for her.

Sofia breaks into a wide smile, and Callie gets a giant lump in her throat.

A week and a half ago, they were all here together, celebrating a day that almost never came. Sofia turned one. (That also meant it was the year anniversary of the accident that gave Callie a TBI, and a cardiac injury among other things.) The days leading up to it had been difficult, with Callie extra irritable and sensitive and Arizona trying to guess at what might upset Callie, all while avoiding her own triggers.

She is still coming back from that. Still has moments when getting in a car leaves her a little short of breath. Moments where she’s charting and can’t easily remember how to spell words she uses all the time, every day. Her stamina isn’t what it once was. But she had been getting by. And they had all been so happy, celebrating Sofia’s birthday. Mark had wanted to go all out, with a theme and decorations. Even though all the pink and purple were a little bit much for Callie, Arizona had happily pitched in, getting a butterfly-themed cake and a couple dozen cupcakes for Zola, Tuck, and the other kids and doctors.

Sofia’s party had been magic. One of those days Callie had been telling Kepner, Avery and Karev about just the other day. Life turning on a dime. And just like that, her worst moment had become her best. Callie had become a mom. It had been the perfect day. Sofia had looked more than precious and was too cute opening all her presents and grinning.

Callie doesn’t want to admit that the party could be the last good memory she has with Arizona and Mark.

She shakes her head. She has to focus. Has to somehow get Sofia changed, fed, dressed and to daycare before Callie’s shift starts. Sofia hates getting dressed. If she could live her whole baby life being naked, Callie’s pretty sure she would, and Callie wouldn’t judge her for it. Except for the fact that she’s going out in public and even though Callie has it on good authority that her daughter is deliciously adorable, it’s the law babies wear clothes. Or something.

Callie captures her as she gets a hold of the string of one of the helium balloons from her party and jerks it, talking to herself. When she starts diapering her, Sofia screams like the diaper is hot lava.

The rest of getting dressed is no better, and Sofia’s in the highchair with peaches all down her front before Callie remembers that usually, Mark feeds her first and dresses her later. Probably because Mark knows his daughter hasn’t yet mastered keeping food in her mouth and doing anything else at the same time.

Callie’s phone rings again. This time, Kepner’s name appears on the screen.

“Anything?” Callie asks, not even bothering to greet her.

“No. Nothing there?” April guesses.

“No… No! Sofia, not in your hair… I swear she was clean two seconds ago…”

“I’d offer to help, but Zola’s having pretty major digestive issues over here.”

“Gross.”

“See if Bailey can help,” Kepner suggests.

“Bailey, who’s the mother of a five-year-old tornado? I think she’s got her hands full.”

Sofia screams for more Lucky Charms marshmallows and Callie winces.

“It sounds like you do, too…” April offers, sympathetic. “See you at drop off? Maybe?”

“Maybe,” Callie echoes, her head splitting. “No promises.”

–

Mark is starting to hate Yang. He already seriously questioned her taste in men because she claimed not to be interested in him at all and that just never happened. Women were into him. All of them. All the time.

Except Yang.

…And except the fact that Mark doesn’t really care anymore. He has suddenly, and too late, realized he is really only into one girl. But Lexie’s not here. She’s not here and she didn’t know.

Mark just really wants Yang to stop messing with him. He wants her to just let him be. He can go be with Lexie and Yang can have one less person to keep alive in this hellhole.

But she won’t leave him alone. He and Robbins are still bunked down in part of the wreckage. It’s cold and he’s starving, but when he passes out, Mark stops caring.

“Leave me…” he rasps, as Yang does one thing and then another. He doesn’t open his eyes. Better not to see.

“Shut up,” she retorts, her voice brittle and short. She has no patience.

She doesn’t know what he has resigned himself to.

They are never getting out of here.

–

_From wherever she is, Lexie does what she can for her friends and her sister. She knows she’s gone. But she’s also not gone. Because how can she be gone if she still feels the cold chill of the wind, and the gnawing emptiness of hunger? It doesn’t make sense._

_But it does._

_This must be her spirit._

_So, she’s not one of those ghosts who doesn’t know they’re dead. She doesn’t have to be told where to go. Lexie Grey knows where to go. She’s also kind of psyched to be able to see George again. She wonders if their ghosts will feel attracted to each other, and kind of hopes not._

_Because Mark…_

_Mark Sloan said he loved her._

_Mark Sloan loves her._

_Present tense. She is sure. She is positive. Because Mark, it seems, is the only one who can see her. He focuses on her when no one else does. Says her name while everyone else weeps it. Moans it. (She was glad when Cristina tried to block off her body. Lexie didn’t need to see that. Plus, it was weird. She’s in her body now, so it was crazy to look over and see herself there.)_

_So, yes, she wants to see George O'Malley, and Mom…gosh, her mom…but not until she knows Meredith and her friends are safe._

_Lexie blinks, and she is at Seattle Grace. Owen’s still here even though it’s really late. He’s on the phone with someone._

_A TV crackles in the corner of the lobby and Lexie moves towards it._

_The next thing she knows she is in a room she’s never seen staring at a young woman, who is watching the news broadcasts._

–

Maggie Pierce is at home in Boston. She can’t sleep. For the last few nights, hasn’t been able to get any whatsoever. Which is a really annoying problem when people’s lives depend on you being at the top of your game and able to make accurate, quick judgments, not come to work so tired she may as well be drunk.

(Which, she’s not. Let’s be clear. Sure, she likes tequila every once in a while, but she doesn’t drink on the job. She’s careful. Her genetic history told her she was at risk for alcoholism. So she’s careful about drinking.)

Anyway, wow, tangential thinking. Apparently this is what happens when Maggie can’t sleep. She’s tried everything: warm milk (disgusting), some kind of essential oil that smelled like a sedative but did absolutely nothing to knock her out. Calming music. A warm shower.

Maggie’s pretty sure she may never sleep again. Like, ever.

She turns on the news because she is bored out of her mind, and instantly sees the headlines:

**6 Surgeons Missing From Seattle Area Hospital**

Maggie can’t help it. She instantly thinks of her mother. Not her mom. But her biological mother, who was, by chance, a surgeon herself. A pretty great one.

Dr. Ellis Grey.

Maggie wonders if the six doctors are okay. Wonders if any of them knew Ellis or had a connection to her, and then laughs out loud.

“Seriously, what are the odds?” she asks herself. She tosses and turns for the rest of the night.

**May 20 th, 2012**

Alex isn’t one to blow things up in his mind. He doesn’t have to. Things blow up anyway, because he’s there. He’s a magnet for this crap. So, really, he shouldn’t have been surprised to hear from Hunt that Robbins’ plane went missing like it got sucked into the Bermuda Triangle.

They never made it to Boise on Thursday. That means, wherever they are, they’re probably dead. And if they’re alive? They’re seriously messed up. Alex can’t think of anyone who has survived three days with who knows what kind of injuries and exposure.

It leaves him with this kind of pit in his stomach. He wishes he hadn’t gotten into such a pissing match with Robbins before she left. He’s supposed to be on that plane right now. He’s supposed to be wherever she is suffering whatever hell she is.

But he’s not.

He feels like the worst person in the world getting chips from the vending machine. He knows what it is to go hungry. Remembers what it’s like all too clearly. But he knows that when they do get found he’s not gonna do them any good if he’s not at the top of his game.

So he eats the chips. He gets a bottle of water, for a good measure, and drinks.

–

_Lexie feels it when the helicopter is coming. The vibrations move through her, and she gains strength from all the electricity running the bird itself. They fly low, and Cristina rushes into the beam of light, raising her good arm and calling for help._

“ _It’s okay. We’ve got you.” Lexie wants to say, but the moment they are all lifted from the woods, Lexie can feel herself start to fade. She brushes a hand over Mark’s forehead. Gives Meredith a kiss she can’t feel because she’s either passed out or unconscious, and then she feels her mom, close by, calling to her. George, too._

_It’s time to go._

_She’s done her job._

–

The moment she is on the helicopter and safe, something stops functioning for Cristina. It’s happens quickly, this mental shuttering, and Cristina surrenders to it fully.

Until right now, she has kept a careful watch over everyone. She has counted the hours, all 96 of them. Cristina knows, somewhere deep inside the recesses of her brain, where her basic skills lie dormant, that she has exceeded the number of hours awake that would indicate functioning with a significant impairment. Oh, she has exceeded them. Not by an hour or two, but by more than five times.

Is it any wonder that she’s removed now? She’s somewhere far away, until…

Hands on her body trigger her adrenaline, which has been pumping at an all time high since Thursday morning. She doesn’t know what day it is because of the hands. They make her remember the animals that went for Lexie that first night. That Cristina was certain would attack her and eat her, and then attack her and eat her friends. The hands do not calm her or make her feel grounded, they trigger a surge inside her that she felt when the plane broke apart around her. She remembers it all.

She’s the only one who remembers it all.

So she fights, adrenaline surging through her. She doesn’t have the stick she armed herself with in the woods, so her one good arm will have to do.

Until she feels the burning in the back of her hand and against her will, her eyes fall shut. As Cristina loses consciousness, she only has time to think  _finally_  before her eyes fall shut.

–

Richard speeds through the streets of Seattle after 10 PM. He just got the call from Hunt. The one he was sure they were long past.

They’ve been found. Plane had crashed somewhere in the mountains. One fatality. Hunt hadn’t been sure whom. Selfishly, Richard hopes for the pilot, because then he will not have to attend another funeral for one of his own.

He barely pulls to a stop in front of Bailey’s house and she slides into the front seat, wearing a jacket, with a bag packed. Richard hadn’t thought to pack anything. Now, they just have to get Zola. Their flight to Boise is leaving soon.

“Did you call Kepner? Tell her to have the baby ready?” Bailey asks.

“I thought you were gonna do that,” Richard says, distracted.

“It’s fine. I’m sure they’ll be okay if we just grab her and go. They’ll understand,” Bailey nods, her leg bouncing in anticipation.

Richard parks in front of Grey and Shepherd’s house and Bailey is out of the car faster than he’s ever seen her move. In minutes, she’s back in the car with a sleepy Zola, a car seat and a diaper bag. If they need anything else, Richard’s sure they can stop off at a store. Right now, they just need to go.

–

After Bailey leaves with Zola, April collapses on the couch and cries. It’s relief, mostly, but it’s also the knowledge that everything has changed. Because she has sworn to tell Callie the second she hears anything, April sends a text.

_Found!!!!! Bailey was just here to pick up Z to take her to Boise!_

Callie calls immediately but all April can do is cry so she passes the phone to Jackson.

“Yeah. No, that’s literally all we know. Yeah, I hope they’re good, too. We’ve got the news on here just in case they say something about it. Talk to you soon. Keep you updated. Yeah. Bye.”

–

Miranda boards, holding Zola in her arms, trying not to think about their friends, who just had the most awful luck on a plane. With any luck, Zola will nap on the flight and wake up in an hour, in time to see her parents. Miranda won’t let herself consider that any of them are not alive, though Richard’s said there was a death.

They’re in the air for what feels like years. Miranda checks her phone for updates constantly. Reads breaking news about the Seattle doctors being rescued. Zola fusses in her seat. Kepner mentioned she’s been out of sorts lately, and no wonder. A baby with Zola’s background, having known so many homes and transitions wouldn’t handle Mommy and Daddy being gone very well at all.

They walk into the hospital in time to hear Meredith insisting that she needs to get on a plane. Miranda finds herself breathless at the sight of her. Dirty, bandaged, in shock, but alive. It’s the most beautiful thing Miranda’s ever seen. She sets Zola in Meredith’s arms and stays close by while she holds her, knowing Meredith’s not anywhere near okay yet.

**May 21 st 2012**

It’s Maggie’s day off when she sits down to check her emails and stops short at the headline:

**MISSING SURGEONS FOUND ALIVE AFTER 4 DAYS IN WILDERNESS**

“Oh, thank God,” she breathes.

Clicking quickly through her emails, Maggie finds nothing of interest. She unfolds the crossword puzzle in the back of the Sunday paper and gets to work, but finds herself distracted. How would she cope if she were stranded the way those surgeons had been? Would she have made it out alive?

You always think you have what it takes, but you never really know until you’re put into a situation. Maggie hopes to God she is never put in one like that.

She focuses on the puzzle. The theme is Wisecracks and her gaze zeroes in on a clue that seems custom made for her:  _Announcement made by a transplant surgeon, perhaps?_ but Maggie finds she has no idea how to fill in the blanks.

**June 4 th, 2012**

Derek’s been back in civilization for 15 days when he checks his voicemail. He could have done it earlier, but he’s not been ready. How are you ready to hear all your friends and family calling, wondering where you are when you were actually trapped in hell?

The minute he turns his phone on, though, it starts ringing in his hand. It’s Amy.

He thinks about ignoring it and then knows if he does she will come and find him and probably kill him.

“I’m okay,” he says, by way of a greeting.

“Derek,” she gasps. “Holy shit I thought you  _died_! I thought you got eaten by a massive wildebeest…or vaporized…”

“Nice,” he quips, his voice quiet and distant. He’s remembering Lexie. He’d liked her. He was good with sisters.

“Are you okay?” she presses.

“I just said I was…” he maintains, though his hand throbs inside its pounds of packaging. It will be a miracle if he can operate again.

“Yeah, but I mean, really?”

“Yes. I’m really okay.”

“Take a selfie. I want to see your face.” Amy urges.

“If I do, you share it with Mom, Nancy, Kate and Lizzie, to let them know I’m okay. Not the whole world. Not social media.”

“Yeah, got it. I’m not twelve.”

“I liked it when you were twelve.” He quickly aims the camera on his phone at his own face, and manages to find a hint of a smile for his sister and then clicks send. He’s glad he doesn’t look like a mountain man or pale, dehydrated and thin like he had at first. Still a little pale, but this picture is ten times better than what he looked like coming into Boise Memorial.

“Oh you look good,” Amy says happily after a minute.

“Don’t I always?” he shoots back.

“So, you didn’t get like, hurt out there, did you?”

Derek pauses. How do you tell your baby sister that you woke up in the middle of the woods with your hand punched through plane wreckage, pinning you to the ground? How do you tell her the only option you had was the rock nearby and brutally awful field surgery with no anesthetic to close the wound after the fact?

“No. I’m fine.”

“Fine like you’re really fine? Or fine like after that guy shot you and you didn’t say anything?” she quizzes. Damn it. She knows him too well.

“Yes,” he says. “Listen, Amy, I’ve gotta go. I’ll be in touch.”

He hangs up before she can say anything more.

“Who was that?” Meredith wonders, coming into the bedroom.

“My sister.”

Meredith’s expression falls. He has to be careful around her and vice versa. Their triggers are many and they are still figuring them out. The mention of sisters is still a raw wound for Meredith.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She shakes her head. “No, I’m glad you have an endless supply of them. Really,” she says, her voice full of false cheer that she desperately wants to be real. She occupies herself pulling fresh pillowcases onto their pillows. “The only one I have left hates me for letting Lexie die out there. I haven’t seen my niece once since she was born and it’s been years. My father never even came to see me, because he was so busy making funeral arrangements. But please, tell me all about your sister, Derek, because all I have now is a memory of  _not_ being there for mine when she needed me the most.”

He looks at her calmly, letting her know she has every right to be hurt. Meredith hadn’t even been able to go to the funeral she was so consumed by survivor’s guilt and by what Lexie’s family would think, seeing Meredith there alive, while Lexie was not.

Derek knows there’s not much to do here except listen. Hear her. That, and offer to be there for her, should she ever want to visit Lexie in the future.

“You’ll let me know if you ever want to see her?”

Meredith sighs, setting a bottle of water on each of their bedside tables and climbing into bed. “My dad’s probably standing guard at the cemetery gates to be sure I don’t come anywhere near her.”

“She loved you, you know?” Derek reminds Meredith, wrapping his good arm around her. Mark had said as much in a few lucid moments and insisted Derek tell Meredith. Mark had been sure he wasn’t going to make it, but he was still hanging on. “She said you were a good sister.” Derek kisses her forehead, and she turns away, but when she speaks, he can hear the break in her voice:

“Yeah…I know…”

**June 13 th, 2012**

Before he goes home after his shift, Jackson stops by Sloan’s room. Ever since they got transferred back to Seattle, Jackson had made it his duty to keep Sloan up to date on everything that wasn’t work related.

Yeah, he’s unconscious, but Jackson’s sure being left all to himself won’t do anything for his recovery. Jackson pulls up a chair. “So I have your favorite kind of updates,” he says, keeping his tone conversational and free of the stress that seeing Mark like this naturally brought out. “I saw Sofia today. She was over playing with Zola for a few hours. Zola took something of hers and she beaned her over the head with a block,” Jackson laughs a little even though he feels bad. “She has good aim. Probably a Sloan trait, right? Robbins is still here and so is Yang. But Shepherd and Grey are home. They seem to be doing okay.”

Jackson doesn’t add just how heavily they still lean on him and April to take care of Zola. Kind of the same way Torres counting on Bailey to take care of Sofia for her so she can be at the hospital with Robbins. Jackson doesn’t mind it. As long as he doesn’t have to change anymore of those nasty diapers.

“So, you rest up, all right? I’ll be back tomorrow to let you know what’s new. Work’s fine. I’m holding it down. So, you know, don’t worry about anything. Later.”

Jackson doesn’t look back as he walks out of Sloan’s room. Each time he does, he’s reminded of what sent Mark to Seattle in the first place. They went to Joe’s one night and got hammered and Mark told him the story: his mentor had died. Jackson shivered, hoping he never had to know what a loss like that felt like. He already lost Charles and Reed. He could go the whole rest of his life not feeling another loss and be totally okay with it.

He hoped he’d never have to.

**July 1 st, 2012**

Cristina’s quietude is being invaded, Slowly, periodically, people push their way in. Mer, of course, and a new crop of interns whom Cristina wants to murder, but that would take too much focus. Too much time and mental energy. So she settles for hurling a vase instead. The vase lands her back in restraints. She doesn’t mind them much. It’s like she’s submerged underwater most of the time. Voices are distant and muffled. The restraints are soft and warm. Not cold and human like Cristina is afraid of.

Avery comes to check in from time to time. So far, he is the only one whose touch doesn’t send her into a panic. She isn’t sure why and doesn’t care to analyze it. She just wants to shut her mind off, but she can’t. She’s stuck reliving it all.

No matter what she does, Cristina’s head keeps echoing with Arizona’s screams. For some reason, that is what haunts her most nights. That, and Lexie, who sometimes talks to Cristina in her head, saying annoying things like, “Do you know what I would give to have a  _body_?” Seriously, people can  _see_  you!” and “You’ve got to go back to yourself.”

Cristina sighs, and her breath is like a strong wind, dissolving Three’s words like they are nothing.

She is in the woods.

That’s what no one seems to understand.

Her body is back, but some part of Cristina is still out there, desperate to save everyone. And there is no one. No one. No one.

She closes her eyes.

**July 15 th, 2012**

Last week, after a month and a half of silence, Cristina had spoken. Owen hadn’t expected it. He’d become an expert on talking and not expecting a response. He’d taken an indefinite leave of absence to care for Cristina while she recovered and Chief Webber had filled in at work. Cristina had stayed when Owen’s own trauma manifested in horrible ways.

She had stayed when his nightmares had been so horrifying that he woke up to find himself choking her. He knew, based on this, that Cristina’s own violent reactions to mundane contact were about something else. Owen could handle this. She had handled his trauma and he is certain he can handle hers.

She is coming back to him, now, bit by bit. She speaks occasionally. Can do some self care with prompting from him. She’s starting to move on her own again, but she moves slowly, like she is wary about what is around every corner.

When they go to bed at night, Owen has learned she prefers the light on. Sometimes, she still wakes up screaming, or breathing hard, usually, gasping, “Arizona…”

Owen keeps their house as safe and predictable as he can for her. When someone knocks, Cristina’s on high alert, her eyes blank and shining, her body tense.

It doesn’t matter if it’s Meredith stopping by to say hello, it always takes her a bit to calm down again.

“The new interns are annoying,” Mer announces, barging in and getting herself coffee.

“…They’re not the only ones…” Cristina murmurs, relaxing infinitesimally. Owen smiles. She’s in there. She’s coming back to him.

–

Coming back after the crash isn’t quick and it isn’t easy. Cristina reemerges slowly, in painfully slow steps. Each day, she is able to do more than the day before. Recently, she’s been able to speak again, which is both a gift and a curse. She is grateful to be able to verbalize things instead of keeping them locked inside, but talking about them makes them come alive in an entirely new way.

Common household noises – their ice machine, a knock at the door – cause Cristina to stop in her tracks. An unexpected touch still makes her heart race, though now she is able to stop just short of lashing out. She watches Meredith pour coffee and wonders how…how can she drink it when Cristina’s every nerve is always on high alert.

“How are you doing?” Meredith asks, getting comfortable.

Cristina stares out the window, not blinking. It’s raining. Like some cruel joke. It’s raining when they all almost died of dehydration. When Cristina, who made it a policy to never pray for anything, prayed for it to rain. It comes down in sheets, cascading over the glass. She entertains the thought, briefly, of rushing outside and opening her mouth.

Finally, Cristina tears her eyes away and glances at Meredith. She is scowling.

“Figures,” Meredith says.

“I want to catch it all,” Cristina murmurs to herself. All her words sound soft and flat now, but Mer seems to get the intended inflection nonetheless.

Wordlessly, Meredith gets up and walks to their fridge. Cristina tenses for the sudden crash of the ice machine but it doesn’t come. Instead, something cold is pressed into Cristina’s hands. She startles a little, and glances down at the bottle of water Meredith has given her.

It’s not the same.

The rain… It would have tasted so much better than this.

**August, 2012**

Consciousness pulls at Arizona against her will. She swears she can still smell that awful pizza that Karev left in here, but when she can manage to open her eyes she doesn’t see it anywhere. Her eyesight, which she would have expected to be blurry, is perfectly clear. Her leg hurts, but that is nothing new. She focuses on Callie, who is sitting beside the bed.

“What…” she rasps. “How did the surgery go?”

Callie looks stricken.

For the first time, through the haze of the drugs and the pain, Arizona lifts the sheet and gasps. Her leg, the one that’s throbbing with a bone-deep ache from hip to toes, ends abruptly mid-thigh. Arizona gasps. “You didn’t… You  _didn’t_ , Callie, how could you?” she demands, tears filling her eyes.

“It had to come off. It was the only way,” Callie cries. “The only way to save your life.”

“You promised me… Your  _promised_  me you wouldn’t give up on me!”

“Arizona, I didn’t,” Callie insists.

“You  _cut off my leg_ ,” Arizona shoots back. The effort sends pain radiating down the leg. Arizona stares at the empty sheet, wondering how she can be agonized in places that no longer exist. “This has to be a nightmare. This is a nightmare, right? I’m asleep?”

Callie shakes her head, speechless.

“Please wake me up, Callie. Please…” Arizona begs.

But Callie can’t wake her up, because, as Arizona comes to realize, this is not a dream. Things really can get worse. This is real. Living with one leg is really going to be the rest of Arizona’s life. The realization – the acceptance of this fact – sends Arizona careening into a depression so deep she isn’t sure she will ever be able to climb out again.

Rehabilitation is a special circle of hell, because people kind of know her. They know that before May 17th, she had two perfectly good legs, and now, she’s learning to make due with only one.

The only one that gives her any joy to see is Sofia, and even that isn’t the full bodied kind of joy Arizona experienced every day before this. Because Arizona’s sure the sight of Mama with one leg is going to be terrifying, she only talks to Sofia via Skype for a while. The conversations aren’t long. Five minutes is about the max of her little attention span and that’s fine. Arizona looks all the toys Sofia shows her.

“Papa?” Sofia asks, and Arizona wilts inside. Because it seems that, the day she crashed, Mark had, too. He’d rallied once, briefly. Arizona was never stable enough to visit him in those days. If he doesn’t wake up by the beginning of September, he’s asked them to pull the plug.

“We miss Papa, don’t we? We know he’s trying hard to get better and we love him, right?” Callie says. It is exactly the right thing.

How can she say exactly the right thing to their daughter and do exactly the opposite when it comes to Arizona herself?

**September, 2012**

Four months after the crash, Meredith finally makes it out to the cemetery to visit Lexie. Derek offered to come, but this is something Meredith has to do on her own. She doesn’t know what kind of flowers to bring Lexie. She can only remember her sister stealing one giant flower arrangement a million years ago when she lived with George and wanted to nest.

So, Meredith comes bearing an eerily similar bouquet. They aren’t cemetery flowers. They are flowers you give to someone who will get better. Who will go home. Who will live beyond her twenties. But they are the only flowers Meredith can think of when she thinks of her sister so she brings them, and sets them in front of the headstone. She doesn’t look at the dates or the name. In fact, Meredith is kind of happy that the arrangement is so massive it blocks out everything about her sister’s grave.

“Cristina’s gone…” Meredith says awkwardly, sitting on the grass. The air has a chill to it, promising that fall isn’t far off. It reminds her of the air in the mountains. “Well, she’s not gone like dead. She went to Minnesota.”

Meredith waits. Imagines what Lexie might say to that.

“I know, right?” Meredith answers. “She was my person and she just takes off like that? What am I supposed to do without her? …What am I supposed to do without  _you_?” Meredith manages, breathing deeply to avoid the onslaught of emotions that want to come.

She shakes her head and keeps talking. “So, Mark’s there. I suppose you know that by now… Hey, Mark, if you’re there… Callie misses you… We all miss you….”

“Listen, Lexie, if you see my mom…please tell her I’m doing my best not to suck… and thank you. Thank you for saving us. I know it was you. I know we had no chance…if not for you.”

The sun breaks through the clouds for just a second, shining brightly on Lexie’s bouquet of flowers.

Meredith stands up and wipes off her pants, walking toward the cemetery gates. On the way out, she looks back once to where the flowers remain lit by the sunshine, while everything around it is in shadows.

“Love you, too,” Meredith whispers as she leaves.


End file.
